Becoming
by Mirune Keishiko
Summary: The moment she first laid eyes on him, she knew. (Oneshot)


Becoming

 _by Mirune Keishiko_

 _"Hey look, it's the half-breed!"_

 _"Why don't you go back where you came from, mutt!"_

She'd always been picked on. Bevelle children could be cruel. She'd avert her telltale eyes, their mismatched colors never failing to draw attention of the most unwelcome kind. She'd pretend she couldn't hear what they called to her so gleefully and she'd hurry on, clutching her basket or her doll until she could find shelter in her mother's skirts.

 _"We're all out of bread for the day. Yes, this early. You can try the other store."_

 _"We've no potions left for the likes of you. About time you learned to make your own anyway!"_

Her mother hadn't found it much easier. Lord Braska always came home to a smiling wife, but Yuna knew her mother merely hid her tears away, saved them for when he was out and she didn't know her little daughter hovered behind the locked door, crying with her.

Maybe that was why she died so young, so suddenly. All that heartache, so lovingly locked away. And then Yuna had no one to hide behind. Sir Jecht might have been safe harbor, with all his loud jokes and big talk; Sir Auron was so stern and imposing, nobody dared say anything to him. But they left as soon as they arrived, these new uncles, and they took her father away, this time for good. And then Yuna was alone.

Sometimes she cried, but only behind locked doors.

 _"What a frightening child, with those odd eyes."_

 _"Poor girl, left behind. As if a summoner could have taken her along."_

 _"But I couldn't possibly take her in. She might scare the babies. Yevon forfend!"_

When Kimahri appeared, she'd quailed in fear. He was huge and blue and musky and strange. But he'd lifted her so gently. He'd not said a word about how she looked. He mentioned her father, his tone full of respect. She'd clung to him, even as she wondered—looking around at Bevelle rejoicing—if she could perhaps make people happy the way her father had made them so happy. Perhaps then they would like her.

He'd settled her in Besaid, nowhere she had been before, but the sea was thick in the air like in Bevelle, and the children were nicer. They stared, but didn't shout. Their parents blinked, but didn't comment. She was, after all, Lord Braska's daughter. Her father had brought about the Calm. Kimahri stood watchful, a formidable presence.

Soon, they got used to her, didn't hesitate or stammer anymore when she raised her eyes to theirs. There were only so many people in town, after all. One learned to adjust. Wakka and Chappu taught her how to swim. With Lulu she played house. She remembered how to laugh.

She got used to life in little old Besaid. Bevelle faded to a distant memory. Botta made eyes at her. Keepa brought her flowers. Kimahri growled at them. Only Yuna could hear his note of humor; the boys dashed off as quickly as their blitzball-toned legs could carry them. She giggled and went to put the half-mangled blossoms in water; Wakka was mortified.

"Flowers are for girly-girls. Yuna is Yuna!" he complained. For whatever reason, Wakka never did ask about her eyes.

And the years ground on, the same faces becoming darker and leaner under the same bright sun, boys growing into men and girls into women, fathers into grandfathers, wives into widows; men leaving as Crusaders, Lulu departing as a guardian. Against all her friends' protests Yuna chose to follow in her father's footsteps, and when the time came, she went boldly into the Chamber, her friends waiting loyally, as ever, behind.

She hadn't expected that the Fayth would test her so severely. She hadn't known what to expect. They taunted her and teased her, tortured her with hunger and wore her out with waiting; they whispered in her mind, coiled around her heart till she thought she would go mad.

 _"What possible good could a half-breed be?"_

 _"How dare you to think you could be even half as strong as your father was!"_

 _"Remember you are also your mother. A wretched, sniveling, useless outsider—"_

 _"They will all know your secret the moment they look at you! What will your dead father do for you then?"_

She had fought to withstand their onslaught. She was proud of her mother; she was inspired by her father. She was humbled by their legacy. She had been spurned by this world. Still, she wanted to save it. The hours slipped by and she clung stubbornly to these truths she had struggled to learn, the few things that had helped her make sense of it all, kept her sane, kept her laughing, no matter what, for so many years.

And the last thing she wanted to see when she finally emerged was a new face, some total stranger, gawking at the sight of her in these forbidden halls; in her exhaustion, even in her exaltation, she didn't want to feel that unpleasant fear of one yet again recoiling. But she was too weak to do more than stagger. She fell, and Kimahri caught her. Gentle as ever, he cradled her weight until she marshalled the strength, slowly, to stand on her own. And looked up.

A face turned bronze from the sun, haloed in gold, and eyes as blue and wide as the ocean; and they were clear and guileless, frank and wondering. They held no judgment for her, only surprise, and not a little admiration. He stood with arms outstretched to her, palms up, nothing to hide. Yuna felt the smile bubble up from within her.

"I've done it. I have become a summoner."

 _owari_

[Sadly it doesn't look like I've gotten any better at thinking up titles after all this time, and it looks like I've gotten plenty worse. But anyway. Thank you for reading! I hope it somehow served!]


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